


Something Else

by evesharmony



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-06
Updated: 2006-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evesharmony/pseuds/evesharmony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By God Sammy if you don’t walk away now I won’t let you have another chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Else

Dean had talked about Sarah non-stop for the past two days.  If Sam didn’t know better . . .

 

But no, Dean was never one to horn in on another guy’s territory.  Well, that was completely untrue.  Dean was never one to horn in on Sam’s territory.  At least, not when it was something that could be serious.

 

So he’d gone from thinking Dean was just a vicarious horndog, to thinking Dean’s answer to getting over Jess was to get on someone new, to thinking . . . something else.

 

Wrapped up in his thoughts, he’d allowed himself to double his alcohol consumption-two beers instead of one-while Dean flirted with every pretty girl in the bar.  He waved and caught Dean’s attention.

 

“What is it?” Dean asked as he approached.  “You find something?”

 

Sam looked down at the forgotten newspaper spread out on the table.  It was the fourth time Dean had been engrossed in a girl only to abandon her from a look or brief gesture from Sam.

 

Something else.

 

“Nah, I just wanted to see if you’d come when I called.”

 

Dean glared.  “Dude.  You’re totally messing up my mojo.”

 

“Come on Dean.  If you were really interested in any of these girls you’d just keep ignoring me.”

 

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, sitting down.  Over Dean’s shoulder Sam could see a very tall and well endowed brunette practically snarling at him.  He resisted the urge to grin back.

 

“Seriously, you find anything?”

 

“Seriously?  I haven’t read a word of this paper.”

 

Dean looked surprised before a crooked grin stretched his mouth.  “You’re thinking about Sarah, aren’t you?”

 

“Dean-“

 

“Thinking about what could happen if we turned the car around, headed back up there.”

 

“No, actually.  I was thinking about . . .”

 

About something else.  Damn.

 

“Sam.  I hate to break it to you, but on a scale of one to weird, you’re being a freak.”

 

Sam laughed, thought about a snappy comeback, but settled with, “Yeah, what else is new.”

 

Dean shook his head.  “You’ve got it bad.”

 

“Sure.  Whatever.”  He bit back a sigh and focused on the newspaper.  Something in his tone must have tipped Dean off because suddenly there was a hand on his arm and Dean had that serious and concerned note in his voice.

 

“This . . . isn’t about Sarah, is it?”

 

“Congratulations.  You win the prize for the biggest duh ever.”

 

Dean’s nose wrinkled.  “You are such a girl sometimes.”

 

“Well we know that can’t be true otherwise you would have tried to take me back to the hotel by now.”

 

Dean froze; Sam looked on defiantly, expectantly.

 

Dean raised his beer and took a long swallow.  “Yeah.  Except my pain in the ass little brother has suddenly taken up a job as a professional cockblocker.”

 

Sam sputtered into his own beer a little, breaking the sudden tension.  “Cockblocker?”

 

“That’s right.  Sammy, you even cockblock *yourself* sometimes.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Sarah.  Lori.  Even Rebecca.  Despite the fact that you’ve got me as competition, there’s no shortage of girls ready to take a wild ride on the Sam Winchester train.”

 

“You’re a pig.”  He tried to be annoyed, but found himself chuckling instead.  “And you’re delusional.”

 

“No shame in admitting that I’m older, wiser, *and* better looking.”

 

“That’s because you have no shame,” Sam replied.

 

Dean grinned his lopsided grin.  “You’re not going to find any happiness sitting alone in the corner, Sammy.”  Dean, evidently remembering half of the reason he’d wanted to come to this bar in the first place, started to get up.

 

Sam lunged across the table and grabbed his wrist.  “So then sit with me.”

 

The look Dean gave him then was one Sam had never seen before.  It was careful.  It wasn’t anything like his usual obviously hungry/happy/angry/horny/overprotective expressions.  Maybe that was what it looked like when they were all combined.  Interesting.

 

Dean sat down slowly and Sam let go of his wrist.  “What are you playing at Sam?”

 

“Don’t you think we’re a little old to be playing?”

 

“Yeah, I do.  That’s why this conversation is over.”

 

This time Dean was faster, and he was gone while Sam scrambled for his papers and his backpack.

 

“Dean, wait!”

 

Dean was halfway between Sam and the Impala.  He stopped abruptly, but didn’t turn around, even when Sam was practically on top of him.  “What about Sarah?” he asked quietly.

 

“She’s nice.  But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

 

Dean glanced to the side and Sam could see the muscle in his cheek jumping.  “You only get one chance, Sammy.”

 

“One chance?”  He wouldn’t screw this up, he couldn’t.

 

Dean finally turned, eyes hard and glinting and desperate.  “One chance.  To walk away from this.  Because by God Sammy if you don’t walk away now I won’t let you have another chance.”

 

Sam stepped closer, aware of the awkwardness of this new forced intimacy.  He’d been close to Dean a thousand times-to clean cuts, to bandage ribs, to fit into small spaces on a hunt, to fight-but he’d never been close to him with the sole purpose of feeling the heat of his brother’s body.  Smelling the sweat, and the aftershave, and that hint of something else that had been preoccupying his thoughts for the last forty eight hours.

 

“It’s Sam,” he said quietly.  “And I’m not going anywhere.”

 

For a split second Dean almost looked surprised.  He recovered and growled, “Get in the car.”

 

 

There was at least three feet of leather seat between them.  Dean stared straight ahead.  Sam had wedged himself in the corner, between the seat and the passenger door with his legs stretched out under the dash.  From this position he could watch Dean’s every move--every twitch, every carefully controlled breath.  His eyes travelled over the denim stretched taut across Dean's thigh, up worn leather and out to his hands and their white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

 

Dean finally glanced over then, noting Sam's gaze, and relaxed his hands.  "What?"

 

"What what?" Sam replied.

 

There went that cheek muscle again.  "I swear to God Sam, if you don't stop staring at me I'll--"

 

"What?  Beat my ass?  Isn't that kind of the point?"

 

"Jesus!"  Dean squirmed and the car veered into the oncoming lane before he got them back under control.  Horns blared.  "What's gotten into you?"

 

Sam felt his lips twitch in a smile and opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off with a wave and said, "Forget I asked.  You know this is . . ."

 

"Fucked up?" offered Sam.  He couldn't even begin to catalogue the ways in which this was fucked up, but at the same time everything seemed to be clicking into place.  "We've never been normal, Dean.  I figure why start now?"

 

"This goes beyond 'not-normal', Sam.  Even the most open-minded people would think it's . . ."  Dean didn't have to finish the sentence.  The words floated in the air between them.  Wrong.  Immoral.  Sick.

 

There was a brief pause before Sam said quietly, "Does the idea of touching me disgust you?"

 

Dean pinned Sam with an intense look.  "No."

 

"Then who cares what people would think?" Sam challenged.

 

Dean absorbed that thought for about three seconds before slamming on the brakes.  They fishtailed to the shoulder of a not entirely un-busy section of the road.  Sam only had time to say, "Dean, what the h--"

 

Dean's mouth was on his, attacking with a ferocity that Sam had only witnessed in the middle of a hunt.  And now he was the prey.  Oh god.  He grew instantly, achingly hard.  He growled and clutched desperately at Dean's arms, pulling him closer.  Dean let out a moan that would have made Sam laugh in any other circumstance, but now only made him part his lips and suck on Dean's tongue when it pushed its way into his mouth.  He probably wouldn't even remember to tease Dean later.

 

Sure, strong fingers landed high up on Sam's thigh and he tore away with a gasp.  "Dean, we can't do this here."

 

There was fire in his brother's eyes.  "The hell we can't.  That's what God invented bench seats for."

 

Sam chuckled weakly just as yellow light washed over them, illuminating their figures for the oncoming traffic.  "Someone is going to see us."

 

"Worried about what someone might think?" Dean challenged, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

 

"I may want to suck my brother's cock, but that doesn't make me an exhibitionist."  Sam leaned in, feeling the satisfaction of watching Dean's mouth drop open, even if it was weakening his resolve.  "Hotel.  Now."

 

Dean leaned back after a moment, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Fucking death of me."  He slammed the car into drive and they were back on the road.

 

This time Sam kept his eyes forward, watching the blacktop disappear too quickly under the Impala and feeling the silence between him and Dean grow into a promise.


End file.
